


centrifugal motion (perpetual bliss)

by obsessivereader



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, mutually oblivious pining idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivereader/pseuds/obsessivereader
Summary: “How’ve you been, Steve? I haven’t seen you around lately.”“I’m good, Buck. Busy. Getting more commissions.”“That’s why you’ve been canceling on us, huh?”The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes makes Steve wish he’s anywhere else but here in this crowded bar standing next to Bucky. “Yeah. You know how it is. Got loans to pay off.”He avoids Nat’s glare when he waves down a passing waitress to order a beer. There is no way he can survive the evening without a little alcohol to bolster his nerves. Because he hasn’t been canceling out on everyone. Only on Bucky.





	centrifugal motion (perpetual bliss)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jinlinli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinlinli/gifts).



> The idea for this fic has been in my ideas spreadsheet since August 2017, thanks to an extended bout of yelling between the members of Team Dot. <3

When Steve walks into the bar and sees Bucky talking with Sam and Nat, he wants to turn around and walk out again. Too bad Bucky sees him before he gets the chance. A guilty look flashes across Bucky’s face as he waves at Steve.

Steve pastes on a smile as he winds his way through the maze of tables and people.

“Hey, man!” Sam gives him a hug. “Glad you could make it!”

There’s a brief hesitation before Bucky leans forward to hug Steve. The faint scent of Bucky’s cologne wraps around Steve. He closes his eyes and tries not to bury his face in the soft black fabric of Bucky’s sweater.

“I hope it’s okay that I came,” Bucky says, when he lets go. “My thing got canceled at the last minute.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No. Sure. Of course it’s fine.” From the corner of Steve’s eye, he can see Nat studying them.

“How’ve you been, Steve? I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“I’m good, Buck. Busy. Getting more commissions.”

“That’s why you’ve been canceling on us, huh?”

The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes makes Steve wish he’s anywhere else but here in this crowded bar standing next to Bucky. “Yeah. You know how it is. Got loans to pay off.”

He avoids Nat’s glare when he waves down a passing waitress to order a beer. There is no way he can survive the evening without a little alcohol to bolster his nerves. Because he hasn’t been canceling out on everyone. Only on Bucky.

 

*

 

“Whoa there, Steve.” Bucky puts a hand on Steve’s wrist as he picks up his mug of beer. “That’s your fourth one. Are you sure you should be drinking that much?”

Steve takes a determined gulp of beer and smiles. “Sure, Buck.” He falls against Bucky’s side when the floor tilts under him. There’s something he needs to remember about Bucky. Something Steve needs to be careful about. It’s hard to concentrate with Bucky so close to him, but he marshals his sloshing thoughts.

Courage. That’s what he needs to remember. Something to do with courage. Dutch courage. Right. Which is why he’s drinking the beer. More beer = more courage. He gulps down another mouthful. “Where’d Sam and Nat go?” He squints around the bar. All he sees are lots of backs and chests. Fuck being short.

“They said they went to get some food, but it’s been a while.” Bucky stands on tiptoe and cranes his neck up to look over the crowd. “What the fuck. I don’t see them.” He pulls out his phone. He sighs and holds it up for Steve to read the message.

After a bit of squinting, the words cooperate and stop doubling up in his vision. _Sorry guys, something came up! You guys have fun. We_ _’ll see you tomorrow._ The text from Sam came in ten minutes ago.

“They just… _left us?_ _”_

“Looks like it,” Bucky says.

“Rude.”

Bucky slides him a glance. “How’ve you really been, Steve?” He stares at the mug in his hands. “I’ve missed you. Barely seen you the last few weeks. You don’t even text me back.”

It’s like getting hit in the face with a wet towel. Steve abruptly sobers up and puts some distance between himself and Bucky. “I’m sorry. Works been crazy.”

“Sure.” Bucky’s voice is soft. “I get it.” He rakes a finger through his hair, leaving the short waves in disarray. Steve hates it when Bucky does that. He looks like a ruffled duckling and Steve has to practically sit on his hands to stop himself from combing his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“I need to take a leak,” Bucky says. He hesitates and looks at Steve. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

“Of course,” Steve says, like they’re okay, like he hasn’t been avoiding Bucky for weeks. He hates that he’s done this to Bucky, made him unsure of their friendship. But if he wants to have any hope of happiness, he doesn’t see that he has any other choice. His gaze follows Bucky as he makes his way through the crowd. His tall, lean form attracts admiring looks from men and women alike. Steve sighs and drinks more beer. 

The sound of a man’s voice to his left catches his attention. There’s a note in it that sets Steve’s teeth on edge—the voice of a bully who senses fear. Over by the wall, a tall guy with slicked back hair is leaning into a woman’s space. Steve can’t make out what the guy’s saying, but from the tense look on her face and the defensive curl of her shoulders, Steve can tell she’s scared. The guy keeps pushing, crowding her back into the wall. She looks around, maybe looking for friends, maybe just looking for help. Steve pushes off from the table and, after a moment while he waits for the room to stop spinning, steps forward.

 

*

 

Maria stands in the doorway of the bar, arms folded as she glares at Steve as he stands on the sidewalk. “Next time there’s a problem, let us handle it. Sharon was already on her way over when you punched the guy. _Tried_  to punch the guy.”

“I didn’t know that.” Not that he’d have acted any different. Steve winces as he puts some weight on his left ankle. He must’ve twisted it when the guy shoved him back into a bunch of bar tables. At least Bucky hadn’t been there when it happened. Any fight that Steve gets into, Bucky will throw himself into as well. With the way things are between them now, Steve can do without the additional guilt.

“Now you do.” Maria’s face softens. “Let me call you a cab. Your ankle doesn’t look too good.”

“It’s okay, Maria.” Bucky walks out of the bar. “I’ve got him.”

“I’m sure you do, Barnes.” She looks pointedly at Steve. “You’re banned for the week, Rogers. Count yourself lucky since Rollins won’t be allowed back at all.” She goes back into the bar. The door closes behind her with her a bang. 

Steve waves a hand in acknowledgment even though she’s not there to see. 

“Seriously, Steve?” Bucky sighs. “I leave you alone for five minutes… I told you to slow it down with the beer.” He checks Steve over. His lips turn down when he notices the way Steve’s keeping the weight off his left foot. “Can you walk?” 

“I’m fine, Buck. I can make it back on my own.”

“What’re you gonna do? Hop all the way home? You busted up your ankle didn’t you.” Bucky turns his back to Steve and crouches down in front of him. He points at his back. “Get on.” 

“We’re not twelve anymore.”

“Don't I know it.” There’s an odd tone in Bucky’s voice that Steve can’t quite decipher. He gives a tired sigh. “Just get on, Steve. You know I’m not gonna leave you to walk back. The faster we get this over with, the faster we can go our separate ways.”

The hurt, bitter edge to Bucky’s voice slices at Steve. It’s almost enough to make him reconsider his choices. But when he thinks of another ten years of the constant ache in his heart, thinks of what it’ll feel like when Bucky finally settles down with someone… He knows he’s made the right decision for himself.

Steve ignores the curious stares of the people walking past as he stares at Bucky waiting patiently in front of him. He climbs on. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and swallows a gasp at the heat of Bucky’s body against his. Blood flushes his cheeks when Bucky slides his arms under Steve’s knees and stands up. Steve tightens his grip around Bucky’s neck as Bucky walks towards the subway station at a slow, steady pace.

This is the last time, Steve thinks. After this, he’ll never have another chance to be this close to Bucky ever again. There’s an email in his inbox offering him a job in another city. He’s going to accept. He needs to stop orbiting Bucky or he’ll remain trapped forever in a hopeless one-sided love for his best friend.

“Are you falling asleep back there.”

“No,” Steve mumbles. He’d forgotten how much he used to love getting piggyback rides from Bucky. Before his pride got in the way when puberty failed to bestow him with a growth spurt to match Bucky’s. Before his useless feelings started getting out of hand.

Lulled by the rhythm of Bucky walking, his eyes close of their own accord as he tucks his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He ignores the prickling sensation behind his eyelids and tries to memorize the feeling of being pressed close to Bucky.

 

*

 

“Okay, Steve. We’re here.” 

Steve reluctantly let’s go of Bucky and slides to the ground. He digs in his pocket for his keys, body already missing the warmth of Bucky’s. A sudden wave of dizziness hits. He staggers and winces when he accidentally puts his weight on his ankle. A hand wraps around his arm, steadying him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, embarrassed by his unsteadiness. He gets the door open and Bucky follows him in like it’s the natural thing to do. And for him, it is. There’s no reason for Bucky to doubt his welcome—they’ve been best friends for nearly twenty years. 

“Go sit down, Steve. Lemme wrap that ankle.”

“Bucky…”

“Look.” Bucky’s jaw works. “I’ll wrap the ankle and I’ll go. Alright?” When his eyes meet Steve’s, they’re almost… cold.

Cowed, Steve sits down and starts taking off his shoes while Bucky gets the roller bandage from the first aid kit in Steve’s bedroom. This is the consequence of Steve’s cowardice in avoiding Bucky—having to see Bucky’s hurt and bewilderment turn to anger. He deserves every bit of that anger.

The silence between them is tense when Bucky kneels in front of Steve. And yet, Bucky’s hands are gentle as they wrap the bandage around Steve’s swelling ankle. Steve tries to memorise the feel of those fingers on his skin. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Bucky looks up at him, hands still, his eyes unreadable. “No problem.” He clips the end of the bandage in place. The muscles of his jaw twitch, like he’s working up to saying something. 

 _Please don_ _’t,_  Steve thinks. The last of the alcohol hasn’t quite left his system, his inhibitions are lowered. He’s scared of what he’ll reveal in this state.

But Bucky doesn’t say anything. He gets up and pours a glass of water, places it on the coffee table in front of Steve. There’s a finality to the rap of glass on wood. “I guess that’s it.”

Steve nods and gets up. He hobbles to the door behind Bucky. _Tell him,_ his foolish heart whispers. He swallows the words before they can win their way free. 

Bucky pulls the door open and steps through. Steve’s almost got it closed when a hand slaps against the surface of the door. Steve stumbles back a step as the door swings open again.

“Can you at least tell me what I did?”

When Bucky’s eyes meet Steve’s, it’s devastating. “You didn’t do anything, Buck.”

“Then why are you avoiding me.”

Steve tries to marshal his alcohol-addled thoughts. “I’ve just been busy…” 

“Don’t lie to me, Steve. We’ve known each other since we were kids. I know when you’re avoiding someone.” Bucky looks at him with mute appeal. “I miss you. At least tell me what I did so I can stop doing it, so I can fix whatever’s gone wrong with us, or—” He scrubs a hand down his face. “ _Please,_ Steve.”

Steve can’t breathe for the pain in his chest. How does he tell Bucky there’s nothing Bucky can do—he can’t stop being Bucky. Just as Steve can’t stop loving him.

“So that’s it?” Bucky’s voice is harsh, anger layered over hurt. “Twenty years of friendship and you won’t even look at me while you brush me off?”

Steve looks down at his feet, tries to hold back tears. “It’s not—”

“‘It’s not you, it’s me?’ Is that what you’re gonna say? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Bucky’s fists are balled up at his side, but he doesn’t take one step over the threshold into Steve’s apartment. That more than anything breaks Steve. “But it is. It’s the truth. It really is me.”

Bucky’s eyes widen when he sees the tears in Steve’s eyes. “Steve—What—?”

Bucky sounds bewildered, all his anger evaporating to be replaced by concern. It just makes Steve love him even more. All the years of hiding and pretending suddenly get too much for him. Even though he knows the alcohol is partly to blame, he can’t hold back the words.

“You wanna know why I’ve been avoiding you?” He dashes away the tears in his eyes. “Because I—Because—” With a detached, almost out-of-body sensation, he watches himself grab the collar of Bucky’s jacket. He goes up on tiptoe, and plants one on him. He barely registers the warmth of Bucky’s mouth against his before his brain catches up with him. _Oh no. No no no no._ “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and slams the door in Bucky’s stunned face.

“Steve!” The door rattles in its frame. “Open the door!”

Steve staggers back, fingers pressed to his lips. What has he done. He backs all the way into his bedroom and closes the door. The sound of Bucky knocking on the front door follows him all the way inside. He sits on the bed, mind blank, tears trickling down his face. Maybe this is the clean break he should have made from the start, if he’d only had the strength.

“Hey!” Mr. Levman, the cranky old guy who lives across the hall from Steve bangs on the wall. “Are you people crazy? Do you know what time it is?”

The knocking stops, but then Steve’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out with shaking hands. It’s Bucky calling. His head swims as he stares at Bucky’s name on the screen. He can’t do this now. He’s probably made the biggest mistake of his life under the influence of alcohol and he really shouldn’t compound it by trying to explain himself while still not fully sober. He slides his thumb across the screen.

“Steve, what—”

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice comes out raspy, clogged with tears.

Bucky falls silent.

“Bucky, I’m sorry—”

“But you don’t—”

“Please just listen. I can’t—I need to be sober for this. If you still want to talk in the morning, then we’ll talk. But not now. Please.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a full five seconds. “Jesus Christ,” Bucky mutters finally. “You better be here in the morning.” Bucky hangs up.

Steve collapses back on the bed and lets the tears drip into his hair.

 

*

 

Steve’s already on his second cup of coffee when his phone buzzes with an incoming call. The bottom falls out of his stomach when he sees the name on the screen. He slides to accept the call and puts the phone to his ear.

“It’s morning,” Bucky growls. “Are you home?”

“I’m home.”

Bucky hangs up and there’s a knock on Steve’s front door not two seconds later. Steve’s not ready for this conversation. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready, but he heaves himself up and heads for the door.

“You look terrible,” Steve says, when he gets the door open. Bucky has shadows under his eyes, and a grayish tone to his skin. His hair is sticking out in all directions and his T-shirt and jeans are wrinkled. Bucky looks like he rolled out of bed, grabbed the first clean clothes that came to hand, and came straight over.

“Surprise, surprise, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Bucky brushes past him and heads for the kitchen. The clinking sounds of Bucky making a cup of coffee drift through the apartment.

“Help yourself to the coffee,” Steve says dryly. It feels weird to be acting like nothing happened, but he doesn’t know how else to be with Bucky. He stands next to the kitchen counter feeling awkward.

After a sip, Bucky leans on the counter and faces Steve. “So you had a lot to drink last night, huh.”

He sees the wariness in Bucky’s eyes, the way he seems braced for what Steve’s going to say. Bucky’s giving him an out. For one mad moment, he thinks about taking it. But he can’t. Bucky deserves better than Steve’s continued cowardice.

“Not _that_ much.”

The tightness around Bucky’s eyes lessens. “You remember what happened last night?”

“I remember that I kissed you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did. And then you slammed the door in my face.” Bucky puts down his cup and walks to stand in front of Steve. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

Steve’s been hiding this secret for nearly ten years. Now that it’s come to this, he’s almost relieved he doesn’t have to anymore. Doesn’t mean he’s not terrified. He screws up his courage and looks Bucky squarely in the eyes. With gritted teeth and balled up fists, he forces the words out. “I’m in love with you.”

One corner of Bucky’s lips tips up into the faintest hint of a smile. “Are you sure? ‘Cos you look like you wanna punch me.”

Steve’s jaw drops open. “Right about now, I kinda wanna.”

“There you are,” Bucky says, voice warm with affection.

Before Steve can think how to respond, Bucky takes one fisted hand in his own. Surprise makes Steve’s fingers go lax. Bucky brings the captured hand to his mouth. Steve inhales sharply at the warm press of soft lips to the back of it. 

“You didn’t give me the chance to kiss you back, Steve. That doesn’t seem fair now, does it?”

“You—” Steve swallows past the lump in his throat. Of all the ways he’d expected the conversation to go, he hadn’t even dared to consider this one. “You want to kiss me?”

Bucky ducks his head and smiles at Steve, soft, a little shy, and oh… Steve’s been so blind.

“Duh. Why do you think I wanted you to open the door?” Bucky nudges him. “So can I? I promise not to smash one on you and slam a door in your face.”

Steve chokes out a laugh. “That… wasn’t one of my finer moments.” 

“You think?” Bucky’s smiling openly as he reels Steve in with an arm around his waist. “You still haven’t said if I can kiss you.”

“Fuck you, Barnes—”

Bucky kisses the curse right off his lips. Every thought in his head dribbles out his ears at the feel of warm, soft lips against his own. A teasing stroke of a tongue has him gasping and pressing himself closer to Bucky. The kiss is gentle. A promise, a declaration of intent, down payment for a future full of kisses. When it ends, Bucky leans his forehead against Steve’s, body curved to compensate for Steve’s shorter stature.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” Steve cups Bucky’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have taken the easy way out.” He can’t undo the pain he’s caused, but he can damn well try to make up for it.

“Yeah, well. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not like I had the guts to say anything either.” Bucky’s smile is rueful. “Thank God you can’t hold your booze.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr :) [yetanotherobsessivereader](http://yetanotherobsessivereader.tumblr.com/)


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